Kismet
by CraftyLion
Summary: Kismet means destiny, or fate. When you throw an innocent, average boy between two families with an age old vendetta, there's got to be some fate at work. Mostly focuses on the three Bakuras and the two Mariks.
1. Bob Marley and a Late Night Drink

**Author's Note: This is a fanart based fiction. I really like the way Bakura looks in a suit. Please forgive my use Akefia, the fan-made name. I really like it... Plus I needed to give the guy a name! Also, Ryou seems like the type of person to listen to Bob Marley.  
>Disclaimer: I do not own Bakura, Ryou, Akefia, Amane, or the Ishtars.<strong>

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><p>1:30. Final call. Not that there was much of a final call - the place was already empty. Being a weekday and all, most people were already home, sleeping, getting rested for the next day of 9-to-5 labour.<p>

Being Thursday, my parents and sister had already gone to bed, leaving me to clean up the bar. Not that I minded much. I liked working in the low light, humming along softly to Bob Marley. It was the quiet part of the evening that well suited my personality.

That's why, when the door suddenly slammed open and two men walked in, I nearly jumped out of my skin.

They were relatively the same height. Both were white haired, sharp eyed and moving rather slowly. The one closest to me was limping and, even in the darkened room, I could see him wince every so often.

I hurried to get a chair for the hurt man. As he flopped down, he gave a muffled gasp of pain. Out of reflex, I asked, "What happened?"

"None of your damn business," the other one snapped back. "Get us some fucking alcohol."

"I'm sorry sir, we're closed." I could have smacked myself.

"Closed? Closed? Your door was open and you got a chair for my brother. You don't seem closed to me! So go get us some drinks and you'd better make it quality shit. If it's not, I'll burn this place down with it."

The man sitting down rested a hand on his brother's arm. "Akefia, please. You're scaring him."

His voice was smooth and somewhat soothing. It was like moisturizer on my eardrums after the other one's coarse and grating tone. I noticed that his eyes were cold and calculating, a sharp contrast from his voice, when he looked at me. The corners of his mouth twitched up for a fraction of a second in a sort of half smile.

The one called Akefia turned to me too. Their faces were the same - same red-tinged brown eyes, same pointed nose and chin, and wild white hair to frame it all up. Their expressions were completely different. Where the sitting man was cool, Akefia looked hot. And not the good kind of hot. It was the type of hot that implied anger and that people should back off. I surprised myself by not running away when he glared at me.

"Isn't that my job, Bakura? To scare people? If I can't do that, then kill me."

"I'm not going to kill you."

"You might as well, because it apparently doesn't matter if I'm here or not. You still get caught and hurt, which means I'm not doing my job. Snuff me and you'll have some extra air to breathe."

"Come on Akefia. I know you're upset, but this is a bit much, don't you think?"

"Upset? That doesn't even begin to cover it. If I ever see those fucking Ishtars again, I'll rip them apart."

"Go play darts Akefia. I'm not going to speak to you when you're like this."

I, standing pretty rigid just a few feet away, tensed up even more when Akefia brushed past me. He produced a knife as he moved.

"Drink, now."

I would have gotten him one too, no hesitation. The way he spun the blade around his fingers showed that he was more than skilled in the art of knife-wielding. But I didn't because the person behind me said,

"No. Don't get him anything."

Gulp. Who says no to a person holding an extremely sharp object? Certainly not me.

"What the fuck Bakura?"

"You're not drinking anything. Not now. Not until you calm down."

Akefia growled and glared and made all manner of angry faces, but his brother merely stared back. He seemed to have some kind of authority and the knife holder whirled around.

"Whatever."

I watched as he stalked to the darts corner of the bar. I almost ran over to him with a drink, just because he was that scary. He started twirling the knife around his hand again and I jumped when it shot towards the dart board. Immediately after, I cringed as he twisted it out, realizing the size of the gouge created.

"You'll have to forgive my brother. He's a bit rough around the edges."

I refrained from saying 'I noticed.' Instead, I chose to focus on my job as a waiter. "Can I get you a drink?"

"Surprise me." He pulled out his wallet and handed me his drivers license. It was perfectly shiny, as if newly laminated.

Bakura Touzoku

DOB: September 2, 1991

HT: 5-11

WT: 117

Hair: WHI

Eyes: BRO

Sex: M

I glanced between the picture and the man. It was a pretty good resemblance, all the way down to the cocked eyebrow and smug grin.

But ...

"This is fake."

The grin dashed away like a marathon runner at the gunshot. For a moment, he looked exactly like his brother. Then it came back, more amused than smug this time.

"How'd you know?"

"You can't possibly be 21. You don't look a day over 15."

Bakura glared. "I'm 18, thanks. But you can't make assumptions like that based on what someone 'looks like.' There are a million people who are blessed with naturally young looking features. I happen to be one of them. It's a curse sometimes, but it's something I must live with."

I tried not to laugh. "Sorry, sorry. That's not the only reason." I handed his card back. "Your license doesn't have an issue or expiration date."

"What? Bloody hell ... That's pathetic. I'm never going back to that place again. How could they possibly forget the issue and expiration date? ... For the record, everything but the year is true. Does that count for anything?"

I glanced over to the stairs leading to the upper floors; my family's living space. I looked back at Bakura. His smirk had changed from one of amusement to one that he probably wore when trying to pick up a date. It kind of suited him.

"That's my birthday as well."

"Oh really?" Up went the eyebrow.

"I'm eighteen too."

"I'm liking you even more."

"You're kind of tall."

"Yeah ... I get that from my father. He was a pretty big guy." His voice sounded like he was used to this back and forth type conversation.

"You'd probably hurt me if I said no, huh?"

"What? No, of course not! I wouldn't bother dirtying my hands for something like that. Besides, you're kind of cute." Bakura winked.

That sealed the deal. What can I say? I'm a sucker for ... Well, just about anyone who so much as looks at me. But he actually winked at me. That's big ... Right?

"I th-think it'd be okay. Maybe one. Anything in particular?"

He shrugged. "I said, surprise me."

"Okay."

I scurried behind the bar counter and quickly grabbed a wine glass. Bakura seemed like a wine person to me.

"Do you prefer red or white?"

"Hmm ... I'm thinking red."

"Okay!" I pulled out the second bottle of red wine from the shelf. I sometimes had a glass or two and I liked this one the best. I hoped we had the same taste.

I brought it to him and held it out, hopeful. I almost dropped it when he reached for it. Not ... Not because he touched my skin. I'm not that pathetic. ... It was because I saw his wrist when his sleeve rode up.

It was red and really raw. There were deep marks in it that were very rope-like and dark spots here and there that looked suspiciously like not-quite-scabbed-over-cuts, complete with a drop or two of blood.

Bakura didn't seem fazed by the fact that I could see it. He just retracted his arm back slowly. He didn't even bother to pull his sleeve back down to cover it. I didn't ask about it, remembering the response I got before.

"H-how do you like it?"

"It's nice. Light. Just my type. You really know me, don't you?"

He winked again and I tried not to blush. I opted for a different topic.

"So, are you and him twins?" I pointed to Bakura's brother, still tearing holes in the dartboard. I'd probably have to buy a new one before tomorrow night.

"Oh no. If we were, I think my mother would have died from exhaustion, not ... Ah, never mind. No, we're not. Akefia is 21. Really." Bakura laughed. It was a pretty sound - kind of airy ... But it didn't have any of the real joy you typically hear when a person's laughing. It was laced with pain. He doubled over, clutching his middle.

"Are you alright?"

"Bakura!" Before I could take a single step, the other male in the room appeared by his brother's side. "What the hell did you do?"

"I laughed. Serves me right for enjoying myself a bit."

I felt my eyes grow when he pulled his hand away. There was a red blot in the center of his shirt that definitely wasn't there before, and it was growing.

"Damn. I just had this suit cleaned."

"I'll grab some bandages for you," I said, backing away.

I don't like blood. I know everyone has it and it comes out sometimes, but it's still creepy. Especially when it comes out as fast as it was on Bakura.

I rummaged through the cabinets for towels and bandage wraps. I thought it would be pointless to bring little finger band aids. I grabbed some rubbing alcohol too.

I got back to the ground floor to find Bakura laid out on a table, shirt ripped open and Akefia standing over him, sleeves rolled up.

"I swear to god Bakura, if you move one more time, I'm gonna stick my fingers in that cut."

"You're not the one splayed out on the table like a dead body. If you were, you'd understand. Stop complaining."

"Oh shut up. You've had worse than this."

"You didn't have to rip my shirt. I paid a lot for it."

"You and your damn shirts."

"You should wear them sometime. They're quite nice you know." I saw Bakura try to laugh again, but his face screwed up in pain.

"... Fuck the Ishtars. I'm gonna murder them. Where's that damn kid with the bandage?"

I hurried forward, not wanting to make Akefia more angry. He probably would have gone through the house looking for me if I delayed anymore. Though, on the other hand, the way he was standing over Bakura looked very much like a mother cat over her kittens. He might not have left his side at all.

But he made a lot of noise.

"Here, sorry. I couldn't find everything right away. They were all over the bathroom." Lies. But I wasn't going to admit to eavesdropping.

Akefia grunted something like "Thanks" when he took the first aid off me.

"This is gonna hurt like hell Bakura."

"Well ... Fuck."

I blinked. That was the first time I'd heard Bakura curse. It was a bit surprising.

I decided to step out the side door until they were done, since I really had no desire to see anything going on during the patching up of Bakura.

I glanced at the clock on my way out. 2:15. Wow, it was getting late. I foresaw a hard time getting up for me in the morning. With a sigh, I settled against the wall and waited.

Every now and again, I could hear a groan of pain, followed by a,

"Shut up!"

Ten minutes or so passed before Akefia called me back in.

"I'm done kid."

I came around the corner hesitantly. Bakura was sitting up, his torso completely covered in white wrap. He still winced when he moved, but there wasn't any more blood, so I stepped out fully.

"Are you okay?"

"As good as I'll get for now. Hey, what happened to my wine?"

I grabbed it from the table to my right.

"Here, put this on." Akefia flung the shirt off his back and handed it to his brother. I had to clamp my teeth together to keep my mouth from dropping.

I have no problems saying that he was hot. The good kind of hot.

I blinked rapidly and gave the wine glass to Bakura, solely to take my eyes off (the very ripped) Akefia.

Bakura's eyes twinkled knowingly.

"Like it?" he whispered. "I can't even keep my eyes off. It's hard being his brother."

I, embarrassed beyond words, was spared the responsibility of responding when I heard a sound behind me. I whirled around to see my sister in the doorway, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

"Ryou, what's going on?"

I hurried to stand in front of her and block her view of the room.

"What're you doing awake Amane?"

"I heard noises and I went to get you but you weren't in your room."

"You shouldn't have come down here."

"Wha-?"

"It's nothing!" I shooed her back upstairs. "Go back to bed."

"We should probably leave anyway."

I twisted to see the brothers heading to the entrance. Bakura lifted his arm in a wave. "Thanks for the drink. I appreciate it. Maybe we'll see you around sometime."

Akefia raised his hand in a similar motion. "See ya kid."

They stepped out into the late night and blended into the darkness.

"Who were they Ryou?"

"... No one. Let's go to bed Amane."

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><p>I wanted to murder my alarm clock when it went off. Blearily, I opened my eyes and ran a hand through my hair.<p>

6:45

Way too early. I wondered if I could get away with sleeping in today. Through probably not, since my parents knew nothing of my late night adventure. Even if they did, I probably wouldn't be able to sleep in. Oh well.

I swung my legs into the cold morning air, reluctant to remove the blanket. Then Amane walked in.

"Good morning Ryou!" she cried, jumping on my bed and effectively taking off all four layers of covers.

"Morning Amane."

"Come down for breakfast, okay?"

"Okay."

She didn't move, so I guessed that meant she wanted me to go now. I suppressed a sigh and stood up, took her hand in mine, and headed down to the second floor for breakfast.

The table was all set - eggs, bacon, juice, tea, mom and dad, tv. I put Amane on one side and sat on the other.

"Good morning honey," mom chirped.

Dad glanced at me, nodded, and returned to the tv. "Listen to this. Some kid was found bleeding to death in some alley this morning."

"Morning to you too dad," I mumbled, but watched the television anyway.

"He didn't die. They got him to the hospital just in time."

"Uh huh."

"There's some secret war going on between these two families over on the east side. The kid's family immediately blamed the other one for this."

I nodded along, not really paying attention. I was too busy shoveling eggs into my mouth at the speed of light.

"_Suzie?"_

"_Thanks Martin. This morning we found a young man in an alley with deep knife wounds in his arms and torso. The man was taken to the hospital immediately and his family is with him now."_

"They're recapping now."

"I figured," I waved my fork at dad.

"_Mrs. and Mr. Ishtar refused to comment, but their son, Malik, blamed the Touzoku family for this incident."_

I, who had taken a break from eating and switched to tea-drinking, nearly sprayed a mouthful across the table. In the process of keeping it all in, I burned my mouth. Turning to the tv, I locked gazes with the pixels of the reporter's eyes.

"_I'm here with the two Touzoku boys now, who were kind enough to speak with me today regarding this event."_

The camera panned out to include Akefia and Bakura in the screen. Akefia had thrown on a suit, though it looked like it had been very hurried. Or maybe that was the look he was going for. His jacket was open and flaring to the side. His shirt was unbuttoned at the neck and the collar pulled apart just enough to show the top of his chest. I had to put my tea cup to my mouth to prevent my parents from seeing my failed attempt at keeping my mouth shut.

Bakura had exchanged the borrowed t-shirt for a crisp new suit. His shirt was a pale pink, buttoned nicely and tucked away in his very fitting pants. His jacket was also undone, but the look was pulled together by a smooth black tie.

I gritted my teeth together and tapped the edge of the cup against my lips

"_Good morning Mr. Touzoku and Mr. Touzoku."_

"_Please, call me Bakura. This is Akefia, my older brother."_

Bakura motioned to the man standing behind him. Akefia glared at the camera and then turned away.

"_Alright. Bakura, what can you tell us about this incident?"_

"_I can't honestly say anything."_

"_I see. Well, why would Malik Ishtar blame you for his brother's near death experience?"_

Bakura shrugged. _"My family is very powerful. We own more than half the town and I suppose Mr. Ishtar and his family resent that. I can only see this as a way to ruin our, so far, impeccable reputation."_

"_So, you're saying Malik Ishtar was lying simply to make you and your family look bad?"_

"_Perhaps." _Bakura shrugged again and exchanged a glance with his brother._ "It could be that or it could just be that he believes we're at fault and is just very much misinformed."_

"_I see, I see. If you had harmed the young Ishtar, hypothetically, would you admit to it?"_

"_Shall I be honest?"_

"_Yes please."_

"_Of course I wouldn't admit to something like that. The Touzoku family hasn't gained its reputation by admitting to every misdemeanor committed by a member. But, to put your mind at ease, I can truthfully say that I have never dirtied my hands with Ishtar blood."_

Reporter Suzie turned to the other Touzoku. _"Do you have anything to add Akefia?"_

Akefia's rough voice sounded loud through the speaker. _"Nothing."_

"_Okay. Well, thank you both for coming out this morning to speak with me."_ She faced the cameraman. _"I'm Suzie Renee, reporting on the—"_

"_Oh, excuse me."_ Bakura appeared on the screen again. _"Might I add something else very quickly?"_

"_Of course."_

"_Thank you. I'd like to thank a friend I met last night for his hospitality and generosity to my brother and I. We quite barged in on you and appreciate your patience. I know this incident might come as a shock to you, but I sincerely hope that you won't think too badly of us because if it. That's all."_ He stepped back from the camera.

"_Well, that's interesting. Who is your friend?"_

"_I'd rather not say. He knows who he is, if he's watching this. That's all that matters."_

"_Okay then! I'm Suzie Renee … "_

I sat back in my seat for the first time in 20 minutes. I had even more questions, but at least now I knew who exactly had visited me last night.

"I wonder who that boy was talking about."

"He's not a boy mom. He's at least 18."

"Oh, do you know him Ryou?"

I froze. "N-not really. I'm just good at guessing ages."

"Ryou?"

I looked over at Amane. "Yeah, what's up?"

"Is that the same man that was here la-?"

"No!"

"Oh ... It looked a lot like him."

"It wasn't, so don't worry about it. Hey, I should probably get going. My class starts in half an hour."

I jumped up from the table and rushed up to my room. I threw on a shirt, some pants, and grabbed my bad from the corner of the room. I pecked my mom and Amane on the cheek and waved to my dad.

No need to worry about Touzokus and Ishtars and family wars. I had biology to focus on.

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><p><strong>AN: What? What sort of lame ending was that? Anyway, I don't know how much younger Amane is than Ryou, so I put her around 9 in this.  
>I meant to make this a one-shot, and yet, somehow I managed to end it on a very non-one-shot note. It's not necessarily a bad thing. I get to write more about Bakura in a suit. But still, this is terrible.<br>Anyway, please review and tell me what you think.  
>FYI: I picked R. Bakura and Marik I. as Character 1 and Character 2 only because I can't have a Character 3, 4, and 5. Ryou and Marik are the hosts, so I thought it was fitting.<strong>


	2. Cigars and Wine, Lungs and Livers

**Author's Note: I will not work on this anymore until I've finish with Hasina! I must give my character a happy ending of some kind!  
>So, the first chapter was written in Notes on my iPhone. It looked a lot longer than it turned out to be. Whoops!<br>Disclaimer: Oh how I wish I owned a majority of these characters. Sadly I do not. Please don't sue me!**

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><p>When Reporter Suzie Renee from HYW News Network departed with her camera man and van, Bakura streched himself out on the parlour lounge chair and closed his eyes. With his light pink shirt and much darker pants and jacket, he matched the upholstery perfectly. But for the wildly erratic white hair and, well, his face, he blended in.<p>

"So, Akefia, what happened?"

"I already told you I don't know anything."

"No, you told that reporter that you knew nothing. You never said anything to me."

"Well I don't know anything."

Bakura fixed his fellow Touzoku with one very narrowed, more-red-than-usual pupil. "Where did you go after you dropped me off last night?"

"I went out."

"Where?"

"What are you, the police now? Fuck Bakura," the older of the two growled. Akefia returned the heated gaze steadily. He bared his teeth like an angry dog. "I went walking around the block."

"Did you go in that alley? Did you stoop so low as to actually waste your time with that boy?"

The brothers continued their staring contest until, finally, Akefia blinked. He pushed Bakura's feet off the arm of the chair and sat down. "We didn't get where we are by admitting to everything," he said, paraphrasing the other's words from earlier.

"Akefia!"

"What?"

"Why?"

"He was in our territory. If he didn't want to get hurt, he should have been home. After what they did, I'm surprised they had the nerve to stick around."

"Akefia, every place is 'our territory.' You can't base your actions on that. If you did, you'd be murdering the whole town."

"Notice the lack of complaints from me."

Bakura give him a stern glare. As much as Akefia wanted to start a fight in response, his place as 'guard dog' of his brother got the better of him and he turned away, pulled out his knife and started playing with it.

"It was also something like revenge, you know? The little shits dared to hurt you, so I just returned the favour."

The young Touzoku swiped a hand over his chest lightly. "They barely scratched me, compared to what you did to Marik."

"Yeah? Well, you know. Every scratch on a Touzoku is an arm lost on a fucking Ishtar."

It was true. Every Touzoku of the past who held Akefia's position had made sure to let the Ishtars feel their claws when one of their own had been hurt.

"Marik is just a boy." Resting his hand on his brother's leg, Bakura smirked. "Don't waste your talent on him. If you're going to be stupid, at least fight Malik. At least he's more near your skill level."

Akefia grunted. He waved his hand up and down. "How're ya feeling?"

"Better. I've felt more comfortable before, but I guess I'll have to live with this for now."

"I'd say you're lucky it's not any worse. I came just in time, huh?"

"I had it under control," replied Bakura quietly. Akefia scoffed.

"Sure as hell didn't look like it to me! As much as it kills me to say it, you were pretty much at their mercy."

The young man's mouth pursed into a faint pout. "I had my gun."

"A gun doesn't do much for you when you can't reach it because your hands are tied up."

Bakura winced at the memory and rubbed his wrists subconsciously. He had always thought that stretching with arms overhead was a pleasant feeling but had realized that, when kept up there, it was painful. He had avoided lifting his hands higher than his chest for the past few hours.

"A knife is just as useless in the same position," he said childishly.

"At least my knife can cut through the cords."

"You would have to stretch your neck like a giraffe in order to reach it. Face it, your precious knife has some limits."

Akefia jumped up and grabbed a chunk of the other's fluffy hair. "Better watch it Bakura, or I'll give you another haircut."

Lifting his hands, palms up, in mock terror, the victim said, "Mercy, dear brother. That is a torture I'd not like to be subjected to again."

Akefia ruffled his hair in response and plopped down on the couch across from him.

Bakura leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and clasping his hands and watched him. He took in how gently his chest rose and fell and the flutter of his collar when he exhaled. He had always liked how Akefia tapped his fingers in time with his breath. One tap for in. Two taps for out. One in. Two out. One. Two. One. Two.

Meanwhile, Akefia covered his grin with a free arm, pretending he didn't notice his brother's wandering gaze. Even though they were siblings, he always felt a certain thrill whenever he caught Bakura looking at him. There was something strangely soothing about those cold, reddish brown eyes that were so different from his personality.

He tried not to think about them too much.

"So that kid from last night. You were talking to him?"

"Hmm? What's that? Oh, right! Yes, yes I was." The younger Touzoku relaxed back into his chair again.

"You called him your friend."

"Yes, well, he could be. He's the same age as me you know. And he even gave me a drink even though he figured out that I was underage."

Akefia looked amused. "Yeah, I noticed that. You were hitting him up pretty hard."

Shrugging nonchalantly, Bakura answered, "He was cute. I certainly wasn't going to pass up an opportunity like that."

The brothers fell into silence again. After a while, Akefia started, as if shocked with a tazer. "Where's Nicole?"

Bakura opened his eyes. "If I had to make a guess, somewhere upstairs, hiding from the press." The expression on his face implied that he couldn't care less where the woman was.

Nicole, their father's newest girlfriend, had started off with a strong attraction to the Touzoku family. She expressed genuine interest in their local and international affairs, and even earned a place in their ranks as their finance manager. (The Touzokus were well known for their extravagant spending.) The sweet red head had enjoyed the press coverage, world attention and, probably most prominently, the money.

The brothers cared little for her.

"She stands out too much," was Akefia's excuse. It was true. Beside all three males, her red hair and real smile contrasted with their white hair and cold, smug, or indifferent expressions.

"I'm only concerned for you, Father." That was Bakura's approach. "I'm just afraid that she might end up like the others. What if she loses interest? Wouldn't that be a bothersome task, taking care of her then." He had said this while playing with the handle of his tool of choice, looking far too similar to Akefia for Mitzu Touzoku's taste.

And, eventually, Bakura's prediction came true. Nicole, the highly tolerant and optimistic - naive - girl learned about the Touzoku/Ishtar war.

Odion Ishtar had discovered her relation to his enemy and had captured her on the spot. Akefia and Bakura would have let him have her, but their father had yelled at them over the phone when he found out, demanding that they rescue her.

When threatened with severe punishment, they rescued the girl from Ishtar clutches, though on the way out, Bakura had hinted that they were free to take her again.

The press, being the vultures of gossip and incidents, had discovered the adventure and for weeks, tried to talk to her about it. Since then, the poor woman hadn't been able to look at her former white haired interests the same because, after knowledge of the family war came out, so followed the other dark secrets. The weapons trading, the drug smuggling and then, to her horror, the history of Mitzu's previous love affairs.

Of course, Mitzu never found out that she had learned anything of anything. Akefia and Bakura made sure to keep it like that.

Fear of the family and their history gave her a desire to run away from it all and hide. It was that same fear that made her stay put. After all, isn't that why all the other people died?

Once in the Touzoku family, there is only one way to leave.

To avoid attracting the direct attention of the brothers, who she considered spawns of the devil, Nicole made an effort to smile prettily to her lover and made no hint to him as to what she knew. She believed that Mitzu would never hurt her, no matter what she knew, or what she felt, but the brothers ... They wouldn't hesitate for a second.

Lucky for her, they hardly even looked at her.

"Damn that woman!" Akefia growled. "She never comes out for the camera anymore. People are going to start thinking we offed her."

"Well, if they're already under the impression ..."

"I hear ya, but we don't want to incur the wrath of Father Touzoku, do we?" Akefia got up and picked a cigar out of the nearest cabinet. He held one up in offering. Bakura declined.

"I'd like to keep my lungs, thank you."

"But your liver can go to hell, right?"

The younger one quirked his eyebrow. "You can't be us and expect to keep both."

"A-fucking-men to that."

Bakura poured himself a glass of wine. He raised it and Akefia toasted it with his cigar.

"A long and rich life to you, Touzoku."

"A long and rich life."

**(-.-(-.-(-.-)-.-)-.-)**

**A/N: What a cheesy toast -.-  
>This was not my original plan, but regardless, you got a little background into the Touzoku family. Very little background. In fact, this was just an excuse to write an entirely Bakura and Akefia moment. But at least now you know what they're all about. I hope you liked this. Please review! Domo arigatou gozaimasu!<br>Thank you very much to RedShadowThief and her wonderful review! I promised you a double post so here's part two :) I hope you enjoyed it!**


	3. Hospitals and Portraits

**Author's Note: Yeah ... so I might have lied. Whoops! Anyway, I despise – despise – Redshadowthief and her profile copy and paste that makes sense. It's making me rethink everything I thought I knew about Marik's name. Damn you woman. As a result, I've had to go back and alter the names of these two.  
>To make everything clear, please check out her profile page!<br>Also, I accidentally called **_**Malik**_** the eldest brother. This is not true. Please note that I have changed that in the first chapter!  
>Anyway, here's a third chapter!<br>Disclaimer: I use my money to buy pretty clothes, not anime characters.**

* * *

><p>"Yo."<br>Malik jolted out of the sleep that he hadn't known he'd fallen into. He looked over his shoulder to see Odion in the doorway.

"It's getting late. We should probably go home."

"Couple more minutes," he mumbled in reply. He turned back to his brother on the bed. He was still hooked up to all manner of machines, even though he'd been there for a week now.

"_He's lost a substantial amount of blood," _the nurses had explained. _"It's lucky he was found when he was, otherwise there wouldn't be much hope for him."_

"_Well is he alright now?" _

"_Yes, yes, he should be okay now. He just needs rest. We'll keep him here for a few more days, but he will be ready to go home within a week." _

Marik twitched in his sleep, rattling the wires, and his blanket slipped down, exposing his heavily bandaged chest. The hospital-white color contrasted sharply with the child's Egyptian skin. A dark stain could be seen trying to seep through and Malik suspected that the nurses would have another bloodied mess to take care of in the morning. He tugged the sheet up and covered his brother again. He ruffled the hair of the unconscious body and frowned when the face didn't wrinkle into a mess of smiles and glares like it usually did.

Stretching and rolling his neck, Malik turned to the figure in the doorway.

"Let's go."

"Gotcha."

Odion led the way down the brightly lit, stuffy hall of the south wing of East Domino City Hospital. He stopped every so often to wait patiently for Malik, who followed at a slower pace.

For the younger Ishtar, the hallway seemed to go on for miles and the journey to the car was taking hours longer than it should have. It was only after the engine was revved that he realized they had made it out of the building.

"You alright?"

"Yeah." Malik's tone implied that he was, in fact, not all right, but Odion knew better then to press. Not that he would say anything anyway.

The ride home was long, silent, and awkward. The elder brother wasn't oblivious to the frosty air and was well aware of the reason; he just wasn't willing to apologize just yet. The age-old family hatred of the Touzokus seemed to flourish the most in Malik, but Odion thought he was taking it a bit too far. All he'd said was that Bakura was right in saying he hadn't hurt any of the Ishtars himself.

It was as if Odion had declared himself the adopted son of Mitzu! But it was true. In all the years he had known about the Touzokus, which was much longer than any of his siblings, he hadn't heard of, or witnessed Bakura touch a single one of them. Threaten and wave around his gun, for sure, but it's not like he actually shot it.

Although in Malik's defense, their brother had just been hospitalized by Akefia. Anything remotely positive about the Touzokus was unacceptable at this time. Odion should have kept his thoughts to himself.

The driver, so wrapped up in his thoughts, pulled into the driveway on autopilot, but almost went through the garage door. He hit the brakes just in time.

A string of Egyptian curses fell out of Malik's mouth, followed by, "You want all three of us in sterilized white beds?"

The younger Ishtar unhitched the seat belt and stormed into the house. Odion took five deep breaths before following. He knew that he was going to be made to apologize sooner or later. He would just prefer it to be later. Maybe Malik would be calmer later and wouldn't try to rip his head off.

Isis greeted him in the living room. She stood up as soon as the light bounced off his head and grabbed his hands.

"How's Marik?" she asked, her eyes searching.

"He's okay. They say he's gonna get let out today or tomorrow."

"Oh thank Ra."

Odion tried not to grimace at Isis's use of the old god. He knew Isis believed the old gods to still be alive – _"They are alive in those who believe in them."_ – But he couldn't agree with that. The old gods and their ways had been dead for a long time. Isis had to move on to the new religion.

Not that he would ever say this out loud. His sister's choices were her own and he would never try to change them for her.

"Did you see where Malik went?" Odion asked.

"He went to his room I believe. I barely saw his feet before he disappeared again."

"I think you should go talk to him. He's still really upset about this and I'm afraid he's going to do something stupid."

"Odion …" the woman gave him a warning glance. Then she stole a peek at the steps leading basement. "But if he was planning something, I think he would have done it by now."

"He could just be waiting for the press coverage to go down before he makes his move. You know him."

Isis nodded in agreement. "Right. I'll talk to him then. I take it you two had a falling out again?"

Shrugging, Odion said, "Not so much of a falling out. It was more … he's still angry with me. I also almost ran the garage door in. I wonder if that has anything to do with it."

Isis bit back a snicker. "Well, did you?"

"No! I stopped in time."

"Well that's good. You shouldn't hear anything from Father then." She stood on her tiptoes to kiss his forehead. "Why don't you get to sleep? It's late."

She watched him go up the steps and around the corner before going to the basement entrance.

"Malik, are you awake?" she called. There was no response, but she did catch the rustle of bed clothing.

"I'm coming down," she said, taking the first step.

No answer.

She continued, one step at a time, making one comment each time she put her foot down. Finally, Isis reached the ground.

Straight ahead, on the wall, hung the family portrait. Mother and Father Ishtar were sitting in red velvet, high-backed chairs. Odion stood next to Mother and Isis next to Father. Malik was between them, holding baby Marik in his arms. The painting always made Isis smile in amusement because Malik was hardly big enough to hold himself, let alone the one-year-old Marik. Isis remembered asking her parents if she could hold Marik.

"_Malik's only four. He can barely stand on his own."_

Malik had thrown a fit when the baby was taken out of his grasp. Only when they gave Marik back to him did he calm down, so it was decided that he would have to hold him. Marik didn't seem to mind. He had snuggled right into Malik's arms, as if it were a custom made cradle.

Isis pulled herself out of her memories and looked to the left. The television was off, but every other electronic they owned was turned on. Controllers were seemingly miles away from their respective systems; wires were twisted and bunched up with each other. Someone was bound to trip over them. If not that, the basement would catch fire. Isis knew better than to touch the games, but she gathered the wires and controllers back into the general vicinity.

The couch cushions were askew and pillows, blankets, and empty chip bags littered the floor. She would tell Malik to clean that up later.

Finished with the entertainment centre, Isis walked across to the other side of the room. There she found Malik, tangled in his bed sheets. His breathing was slow and steady, like he was asleep, but his feet were moving. When Malik slept, he was like a dead body.

Isis settled on the edge of his bed and rested a hand on his exposed shoulder.

"Malik?"

A muffled voice drifted towards her through the pillow. It sounded something like, "Go away Isis."

"I want to talk to you Malik."

After much deliberation on Malik's part, he sat up. His ten-minute rest on the pillow had caused his gel-lathered hair to stick up at odd angles. That is, different odd angles. Isis tried not to laugh at him. She knew how much he hated when people laughed at his hair.

"How are you doing little brother? Odion said you were still upset."

"Well _Odion_ should mind his own business."

"You're his brother too. You are his business. He's just worried about you."

"I don't need him to be worried about me!" Malik glared angrily at the floor. "He's not my brother. Not if he defends the Touzokus like that. Not after … not …" An image of Marik's cut up body flashed across his mind and he bit on the inside of his lip to prevent a fresh flow of sadness from coming over him. He didn't want to feel anything but anger right now. Malik was certainly sad about his brother's situation but if he were angry, he would lose all common sense. And that's what was needed to deal with _them_. Common sense (and his father) told him never to go to the Touzokus in the middle of their own ground but in the state that Malik was in now, he would face them on their own turf and he'd do it alone. After this event, it was clear to him that he couldn't bring his brother into it. Not again.

"Malik, look at me," Isis was saying. She stuck a finger under his chin and lifted his face to look him in the eye. "I know you're angry at him, but you can't be. Right now, you need to be as close to your brother as you possibly can. He has to try and protect you and Marik and you have to protect him too."

"Why should I? It's not like he needs it. He's not really one of us and Bakura knows that. They won't hurt him because he's got nothing to do with us."

"Of course he does, Malik. Odion is our brother and he's just as much in harms way as you or I."

This conversation was far from new. Whenever Malik got into one of his fits, he always seemed to make Odion his primary punching bag. It was hardly surprising. The older sibling's adopted status made him an easy target.

"Just because he lives in the same house doesn't mean he's the same as us."

Isis decided to steer the conversation away from Odion.

"He is the same as us. He might not understand or share our animosity towards the Touzokus, but he is definitely one of us. Besides, he makes for a decent guard, don't you think?"

"No."

"He's not as good as Akefia, is he?"

"Shut up about him."

Isis raised an eyebrow. "Do you think that, if Akefia was on our side, Marik wouldn't have been hurt?"

"If Akefia were on our side, Marik wouldn't have been hurt because _Akefia_ wouldn't have hurt him!"

He was pouting now. The woman knew from experience that he would start talking now, if she pressed hard enough. She pressed hard.

"But he can be such a good bodyguard, don't you think? Look at all the trouble he gets into to save his brother's life."

"Don't you start too Isis. There is _nothing _about that knife-swinging psychotic bastard that would ever make me respect him in the slightest bit and if you say anything good about him again, I'll never forgive you for that."

"What is it about the Touzokus that makes you get this angry? I know we as a family aren't supposed to like them, but it seems like you hate them the most."

"They're immoral, unethical bastards."

"I'm sure if we actually gave them a chance, they'd turn out to be nicer than we think. We should strike up a truce with them. Instead of wasting your energy in finding ways to destroy them, you could all join together and do something ... decent for once."

"No! I've already told you Isis, there is no possible way for that. Ever. There's a mutual hatred between us and there always will be. If they want to be friendly, they can try, but I'm not gonna be the one to extend my hand. Those two can rot in hell for all I care. Especially Bakura, the little fucker. He's the reason this all happened you know. Setting his fucking dog of a brother on Marik."

Isis suppressed a sigh and commented, "You don't know that he did."

"Yes I do," Malik snapped back. "You know he did too and then he protected him. On TV. It makes me want to murder him."

"That would cause nothing but trouble for us. If hurting Bakura the way you did resulted in Marik's injuries, then killing him would mean certain death for Marik and we'd be caught up in the never-ending cycle again. The last I recall, it was _you_ who made the first cut. Akefia was just trying to protect his brother."

"Cornering Marik in an alley doesn't constitute as protecting his brother."

Malik's voice was nearly a screech now and Isis was grateful for the soundproofed walls.

"No, but it was retaliation for what you did. Look, I'm not defending the Touzokus in what they did, but Marik is lying in a hospital bed because he got caught between you and them. Think about it Malik. You should be blaming yourself for what happened to him; you started this when you took Bakura."

That being said, she stood up and went upstairs. At the top, she said, "Good night."

Isis really hated doing this to her brother. He didn't deserve to have the weight of Marik's injuries on his shoulders, but it was true. The only reason Marik was hurt was because Malik had been stupid and done something without thinking. Isis would never forgive Akefia for what he did to her youngest brother, but she wanted Malik to realize just how much of a part he played in it.

Just before closing the door, she caught a glimpse of the family portrait on the wall. She locked gazes with her painted image. For a moment, she wanted to switch places with that character. But that was a silly thing to wish for.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I thought of something – I should have had **_**Marik **_**be the older brother. After all, technically speaking, Marik is ten years older than his evil counterpart.  
>A second thing I noticed: Malik and Odion have a less than wonderful relationship in the actual anime too! I totally forgot about that! That makes my relationship between the two all the more reasonable!<br>I hope you enjoyed this! It was a bitch and a half to write. Although, apparently I enjoy writing longer segments on the Ishtars than on the Bakuras. Am I losing my inner fangirl? The horror of it all!**


	4. Backstreets and Bottles of Bluff

**Author's Note: Now, a special notice – the first chapter was in first person through Ryou. I realize that these last two were in third person. One reason is that I write third person a lot better but, also, it would have been hard to write them in first person. Therefore, I'm trying something new. Hope it doesn't bother you.  
>Thank you so much to Lita of the Dancing Flames for her beta work.<br>Much love to ****_RedShadowThief _****(as always)****_, Cadens Stella, ilovemanicures _****(I would too, if I ever got one), ****_YamiBakura1988, _****and ****_Lita of the Dancing Flames. _****Your reviews make me so happy!  
>Disclaimer: I'd be in heaven if I owned half of these characters … especially the Akefia and Bakura half.<strong>

* * *

><p>There are three things I have never wanted to do.<p>

I have never wanted to be left in East Domino City and forced to walk back home, get lost in the process, and end up closer to the center than to my house.

I have never wanted to walk down a dark, dingy alley, only to see the end blocked by a wall and, upon turning around, find myself trapped by four (pretty beefy) guys at the entrance.

I have never, ever, _ever_ wanted to be scared for my sister's life.

And yet, some mad twist of fate decided that I should experience all three of these at the same time.

I was in the center of East Domino City, in the darkest alley ever made, holding Amane's hand really tightly. I was surprised she wasn't complaining. But then again, you don't notice small things like how little feeling you have in your fingers due to someone's grip when there are intimidating people heading your way.

I could only assume that the man two steps in front of his companions was the leader. Upon closer inspection, I determined that he wasn't physically frightening at all. In fact, he was rather small. I probably could have kicked his ass if I had any sort of courage about me. The thing was, he had a knife. And not just a butter knife. I only had my fists and a brave face. In fact, I only had one fist since the other hand was busy keeping Amane behind me.

"You two ain't one o' the big richies from 'round here."

Aside from butchering the English language, his voice had a foreign lilt to it, making it difficult to understand his words.

"Are ya?" He shoved the pointed end of his weapon towards me, stopping mere inches from my stomach. I flinched.

You know what? It's difficult to stand still when someone has a tool that could cut your stomach into little shreds like it was paper.

"N-no," I stammered. I heard Amane let out a little whimper.

"I didn't think so. Ya sure look like 'em, but you ain't. You're too soft lookin'."

His drawl had a ring to it that made me think of someone else's voice. It reminded me to make a mental note for later: I was going to bloody murder Joey. Emphasis on the bloody.

If it weren't for him, Amane and I would be home doing our homework, not backing into a corner to escape some street thugs. (In retrospect, backing into a corner was not the best plan. It's not like we had much choice though.)

But it wasn't entirely his fault. He was the cause for about 89% of this problem. The other 11% of the blame belonged to me. I should have suspected something like this would happen. Certainly not that I'd be trapped in an alley, but the fact that I would be abandoned in this area of the city. I should have been suspicious when Joey first suggested that I was secretly one of the Touzoku brothers – I adamantly denied that, of course. Joey Wheeler was an experimental type of person; in order to determine whether or not something was true, he would go to all sorts of lengths to do so. I was stupid to have agreed to hitch a ride with him today. A warning bell had sounded when he said he needed to get something from a store in East Domino. For one thing, he didn't say what he needed or what store he was going to. For another … Joey can barely afford his room on the third floor of his apartment building. Anything, even a piece of pie, was way too expensive in this part of town. Especially for him.

Every single one of my flags should have gone up when he refused to drop Amane off. I had just picked her up from school and we were on our way home when Joey rolled by. I asked him to run by the bar real quick to take Amane home, but he said he needed to get "something" at "that store" first.

I could murder myself for not insisting. I'd do that after I took care of that blonde, bloody wanker of a bastard.

The pipsqueak with the knife was saying something to me, but I wasn't paying attention. That was obviously not what he wanted because he slashed his weapon at me and, before I could blink, my sleeve had a cut in it and I felt an intense, stinging burn. I clenched my teeth to keep myself from screaming. The knife-that-was-definitely-not-a-butter-knife hurt like hell. I chanced a glance to the right and saw that the pain came from a good two-inch gash, and I watched with some strange fascination as the blood welled up and spilled down my arm.

I opened my mouth to speak, but suddenly Amane released my hand and jumped in front of me. I was surprised enough to be speechless. She spread her arms out and she leaned against me, as if to protect me from everything. Words formed in my head but, try as I might, they never made it past my teeth.

"Please, leave my brother alone!" she shrieked. My fear for her safety and my pride for her bravery were both set aside for a moment as I thought, _Thank god, proper English._ …I'm terrible, I know.

"Your brother, huh? Ain't that real cute." Pipsqueak chuckled and looked back at his lackeys. They followed suit, laughing. When he faced us again, the gaze he gave my little sister caused a shiver as cold as liquid nitrogen to run down my spine.

"Amane," I managed to whisper. "Get back."

She took one look at my face and knew something was wrong. She grabbed my hand again as she stepped behind me.

I would never deny that I have a strong attraction to the male physique. But that doesn't mean I don't know what guys think when they look at a girl. Especially a pretty girl. There's a certain glint in a man's eyes when he sees something he likes and that glint was there in Pipsqueak's face.

Even at nine years old, Amane was, by far, the prettiest girl I'd ever seen, and I'm not being biased. Her rounded cheeks and nose were accentuated by the jagged edges of her unnaturally white hair and the grey in her eyes, inherited from our mother's grandfather, sparkled like polished gems. There was no doubt in my mind that she would grow up to be a beautiful woman.

But only I was allowed to think that about her. I wasn't about to let some lowlife asshole with a knife defile her the way his eyes said he would. I took a step forward, ignoring the pain in my arm.

"Aw, look at you, bein' a good big brother. Bet'cha feel real protective and tough, huh?"

"Stay away from her," I growled. Inside, I glowed. I didn't know my voice could _reach_ that low! I thought I sounded angry enough and that's what I needed, of course. Obviously, having a tough sounding voice and having a tough body were two different things. Pipsqueak motioned to his pal on the right, who swatted me aside like a fly.

The alley walls were brick.

Cold, hard, and unforgiving.

I'm fairly certain I heard something crack, though I may have imagined it. Regardless, I predicted that my back would be hurting for months. I had, unfortunately, landed on my right side. That meant the terribly cut shoulder had just been slammed into the stone. Suffice it to say that it hurt. A lot.

And just when I thought I'd been dealt enough pain for the day, Thug Number One gave me a swift kick to the stomach. No, make that _two_. To top it all off, Thug Two came over to bash my head into the wall.

What Pipsqueak lacked in strength, he made up for in goons.

My vision started to get blurry, but I couldn't tell if that was because I just had my skull crushed or if it was the blood getting into my eyes. I heard Amane scream to my left. It sounded distant, although I knew she was only a few feet away. I forced my head up to find her.

Amane was trapped in the corner of the alley, the remaining two offenders on either side of her. Pipsqueak had a chunk of her hair in his fist while Thug Three clamped his hand over her mouth, effectively cutting off her noise.

"Pipe down, girlie. Don't want no one to come pokin' their head where it don't belong, do we?"

I glared in his direction. I used the wall as leverage to bring myself to my feet. My efforts were rewarded with hard shove on my shoulder and down again I went.

"Oh no ya don't, buddy." I think it was Thug Two who said it. I was too busy grimacing to care which goon had spoken.

Just then, the alley grew darker. You wouldn't have thought it was possible, but somehow it happened.

"What's going on here?" someone demanded. Never have I ever been so happy to hear a stranger's voice.

While my personal guards faced the arrivals, I made another attempt to stand. When I was up for more than a couple seconds, I turned to the sound of the new voice. The reason why the alley was so dark now was revealed. The end of the backstreet, where sunlight had been thinly streaming through, was currently blocked by two tall figures. One was a head higher than the other, but both were daunting.

"I asked you a question," the voice said again. "What's going on here?"

"Mind your own business, scum," Pipsqueak responded. "This don't concern you."

"Oh, on the contrary; this concerns me a lot. As for scum… given the position you're in right now, you've hardly a right to call me names."

The figures continued to approach and I gaped openly as I recognized them.

"This girl doesn't know what do with _herself,_ let alone what to do with a man. Are you so insecure about yourself that you'd rape her to soothe your enormous ego?"

"I said, mind yer own business!" Pipsqueak snarled viciously and whirled around, coming to an abrupt halt as he faced the newcomers. If I hadn't been in so much agony, I might have actually laughed at the sound he made. It was a mixture of an 'Eep' and a growl. The growl came first, the eep came second.

Bakura shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly. "You're in an alleyway of East Domino City. Might I remind you that I _own_ this part of town? Therefore, this is my business."

Akefia stepped forward and effortlessly pinned Pipsqueak against the wall with one hand. The other extracted a knife from his back pocket. Despite my pain, I tried to imagine him without his coat. His muscles probably rippled nicely with the movements.

I shook my head (a mistake, I quickly realized, when the world spun around me). This was hardly the time for that! I leaned against the wall and beckoned to Amane with my uninjured arm. I caught her round frightened eyes in mine and smiled slightly. It probably looked more like a grimace because she frowned, seeming to forget her fear, and dashed over.

Goons One, Two, and Three made a move to stop her, but Bakura brushed back the edge of his suit jacket to reveal a 9mm Glock tucked into his belt, claiming their immediate attention. His hand rested on his waist, holding the fabric back. His hair was brushed by the wind, falling across his face in a way that would have taken my breath away if I had any. He gazed at each of them coolly and raised an eyebrow. They all froze in their tracks.

Damn, I wish I were that good.

"Are you okay, Ryou?" Amane was asking. I pulled myself out of my thoughts to focus on her.

"Y-yeah, fine," I squeezed out. She touched my arm and I hissed like an angry cat.

Amane furrowed her eyebrows and gasped. "Ryou!"

"Seems like you've hurt my friend," Bakura accused. He took the five steps between his position and mine. A grin crossed his features and he winked while taking off his jacket.

He went closer to Amane and she flinched. I frowned at her reaction.

"It's okay," I said. _I think_.

Bakura wrapped the jacket around her shoulders and rested a hand on her head. He leaned down to murmur something in her ear. I watched as Amane's face relaxed significantly. She even chanced looking up, the smallest of smiles gracing her face.

"W-What are you doing?" I asked, bewildered.

The boy opposite me pulled the gun out of its holster. "Could you hold that for me, kitten? I'd hate for it to get dirty while I do my work here."

He turned back to the trio and raised the gun, his free hand in his pocket.

"So, who gets punished first?"

Thugs Two and Three didn't say a word before turning tail and running. Bakura seemed to contemplate following them but decided against it. He faced Goon One.

"Well?"

The henchman backed away quickly. He would have kept backing away for all eternity, but a solid, unyielding wall stopped him. He obviously hadn't noticed how close he was to it because the impact sent him sprawling to his knees. After a moment of shock, he rolled over onto his back. He put his hands across his face when Bakura stepped over him, the barrel of the Glock pointed directly at his chest.

Yes, because covering your face protects your chest from a gun that's two inches away.

My position against the wall gave me a full view of the scene — Bakura holding a weapon over a person curled into a half-ball. It would have been the type of scene you call the cops on, except I noticed something that no one else probably did.

Bakura's finger wasn't on the trigger. In fact, he was holding it the way you would hold a mug handle. I don't know much about guns, but I was pretty sure that wasn't the way to hold them. He should have been using two hands as well.

The man on the ground wasn't aware of that. He wasn't aware of anything except his apparent danger. "We were only doin' what he told us to, I swear. Don't kill me, man! I promise ya, I wouldna done it if it weren't fer him! I'm real sorry, man, jus' don't kill me or nothing, alright?"

Bakura gave him a long, hard glare that I could only imagine looked dangerous as hell. He twitched the weapon to the side as a signal for him to go. Thug Number One wasted no time in scrambling to his feet and fleeing. In his hurry, he lost his balance and before he reached the end, he fell over again. This time, he didn't bother getting up. He crawled on his hands and knees the rest of the way.

I chuckled as much as my beaten body would allow. My breath finally began to return to my exhausted lungs.

It went away just as quickly when Bakura looked at me again with those damn gorgeous brown eyes. He smirked.

"Thank you very much, kitten. That's one less thing I'll have to wash," he said, plucking the jacket off Amane. She glowed under his gaze. I pulled her closer. Somehow, I doubted he was the type of person to do his own laundry.

"Thanks," I squeeze out.

Bakura replaced his gun and beckoned to us. "Let me take you back to my place and patch you up. You look like a piano dropped on you."

"I feel like a piano dropped on me." I reached up to touch my head gingerly. "What about Akefia?" I asked, glancing back to see the other character still holding Pipsqueak against the wall.

"Don't worry about him. He'll come home soon enough. It's this way." Bakura turned left.

As I followed him, I heard Akefia's words float from the alley.

"Didn't your mommy ever tell you not to play with sharp objects?"

* * *

><p>Touzoku Manor was a huge building. And by huge, I don't mean one of those mansion homes you see in developments. I mean, <em>immense.<em> It had a good half-mile driveway. I'd have been able to enjoy the scenery more if I hadn't been limping the entire time.

The house itself was massive. The front had to be at least five times the length of my family's bar and who knew how far back it went.

I gimped after Bakura to the front door. It was elaborately carved and I suspected that it was gold plated. It wouldn't surprise me.

When we walked in, I noticed a statue of armor to my right and an ornately set dining table in a room on the left.

Dead ahead was the staircase to the second floor. It was one of those designs that starts off at a single platform, splits to wrap around a centerpiece, and then meets at the bottom again. Here, the center was a doorway to another large room. I followed the solid oak banister with my eyes from where it started on the ground floor and went up one side of the stairs to the top, created a circle by wrapping around the second floor and came back down the other staircase. The banister ended in a large spiral. I took a step forward to look up at the above floor. It was like a balcony, except it looked down into the foyer instead of a garden.

"Follow me," Bakura said, his voice light, pulling my attention away from the house momentarily. He went straight ahead into the room between the stairs. I took the two steps to the platform that constituted as the ending point of the staircase. The fabric squished under my shoe. Looking down, I registered the fact that it was red velvet.

I blinked. This was fancy. I felt insanely under dressed in my school uniform. I tightened my grip on Amane's hand and went forward.

"Don't touch anything," I warned her quietly. She nodded.

The hallway leading to another room did little to ease my discomfort. It was painted a soft shade of yellow. A portrait of a stern, older woman with grey hair pulled back in a bun hung in the middle of the right wall, the frame seeming to be gold plated, just like the door frame. I hurried through and emerged into a well-furnished living room that was spotless, held the gentle scent of lavender in the air, and had an atmosphere of elegance about it. I was suddenly very aware of how much dirt was on my shoes and under my nails.

"Lay down here." Bakura pointed to the couch. One of three couches, I should say. I was a little nervous about ruining the probably highly expensive piece of furniture, but I was aching too much to worry very long.

Amane helped me to the seat and even arranged the pillows so I'd be more comfortable. She's such a good little sister. I reached for her and pulled her down to give her a kiss on her head.

"Thanks, Amane. I'm so sorry you had to go through that."

"S'okay. You protected me."

I smiled a little. "Yeah. And you were really brave."

Bakura coughed. "I'll get Nicole to take care of your wounds. I've never been good at first aid." He stepped through a door that I hadn't noticed was there before.

Now the house was utterly silent. Maybe it was because of all the cushions – they absorbed all the sound. I couldn't even hear my sister's breathing, though that could have been because my own labored breaths drowned hers out. I pressed a finger to my chest. It hurt like hell. If I hadn't broken anything, I'd consider it a miracle.

I dropped my head to the armrest. I watched as Amane settled herself on the ground next to me. She never removed her hand from mine. Every now and again, she gave a squeeze. I closed my eyes.

Just before my consciousness left me, I remembered my note to kill Joey.

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><p><strong>AN: There! This ending is by far my most favourite! I felt like this was the right place to stop. It feels natural to me. I wanted to make this chapter little longer, but I'm also afraid to go on because I might not find another stopping place as good as this!  
>Perhaps Ryou seems a little out of character. If you hadn't noticed, I'm trying to stray from the way he is typically portrayed.<br>No ... Pipsqueak is not Yuugi Motou.  
>I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I'm not sure why I was so excited to write about Ryou getting beat up but … apparently that's what I'm into these days.<br>I beg of you, tell me what you think!**


	5. Keypads, Jackets, and Mac&Cheese

**Author's Note: This is my celebration update. I finished one of the most major testings of my educational career! Whoo hoo!  
>I wrote this chapter a while ago. It's high time I uploaded it for you.<br>As always, thank you to my reviewers.  
>A special thanks to Lita of the Dancing Flames for her helpful beta work!<strong>

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. NOTHING!**

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><p><em>Akefia guided the knife with a steady left hand. Late afternoon sun shone off the handcrafted blade and the edge glinted dangerously. He stabbed the point into one number and another, and then six more. The machine accepted his code with a low hiss and the door unlocked. Somewhere in the back of his mind, a voice told him that he shouldn't use his knife to punch in his personal key because Father didn't like when he did that. That same voice turned around and told him that Father wasn't here, so it didn't matter. Besides, Akefia liked the sound of the blade tapping on the hard plastic. <em>

_He pulled the door handle down and pushed the door in, as silent as ever. On the steps was Bakura, in all his natural elegance, to greet him. Akefia took a moment to soak in the site of his little brother. _

_Bakura had rolled up his sleeves to just below his elbows. He was hunched over in his characteristic position, his arms on his knees, and his hands clasped between his legs. The soft white hair, typical of the Touzokus, dangled around his face, shielding it from public view. Not that Akefia needed to see his face to know what it looked like. He had memorized Bakura's face ages ago, all the way down to the barest of freckles under his left eye. _

_Along his back, Akefia noticed that his brother's shirt was wrinkled. No doubt it was because his newest suit jacket fit him a little too snug. _

_"You should really stop spending money on shirts and get yourself a decent blazer." _

_Over the years, Bakura had learned to get used to Akefia's silent steps and sneaking nature. Too many times before, Akefia had snuck into a room without a word or sound. Now Bakura didn't even bother to fake surprise when he appeared unexpectedly. Instead, he merely lifted his gaze and raised an eyebrow. His red-brown eyes seemed to pierce into Akefia's core. _

_"I was under the impression that you rather enjoyed my ill-fitted jacket." _

_"Oh, don't get me wrong, I do. But it does shit for your clothes." _

_Bakura rolled his shoulder irritably. "So it does. But that doesn't matter right now. What did you do about…?" He let the question hang. _

_"I give the runt about two hours for my words to settle in. After that, he'll be too afraid to even think about dark alleys, let alone cornering someone in them." _

_"Excellent. Though you don't look happy." _

_"I'm not. I should have just shoved my knife into his throat right there. He deserved it. Did you see the way he looked at the girl?" _

_"Yes, but we can't have you killing every backstreet scum that we come across. What would the police do?" _

_"There's never a shortage of criminals." _

_Bakura chuckled. He stood up and reached out his arms, straightening the edges of Akefia's jacket. "No, but we still need as many out there as possible. The less minor criminals there are, the more chance that _we_ might be next on the police radar and, given recent events, I'd say that's the last thing we want." _

_Akefia turned his head, unwilling to look into the eyes of his brother. Bakura was in one of his _I-know-what-you-did-and-if-you-ever-do-something-like-that-again-I-will-kill-you-in-you-sleep _moods. Akefia was aware that he didn't have to worry about being murdered by the younger Touzoku, but there was something like disappointment that radiated off Bakura when he was in this mood._

_"Yeah, well he's alive, so no need to worry your pretty little head," he said in as patronizing a tone as he dared. _

_Bakura took a step back. "Father's coming home," he stated bluntly. _

_In response, Akefia blanched. "Why?" he asked warily. _

_"He said that he was meeting with Hank later to talk about … Marik." _

_"I thought you said you dealt with that." _

_"I _did_. But it would appear that Malik felt to need to tell his father his concerns and suspicions. And you know Father; he won't let us deal with Hank ourselves." _

_It was true. Mitzu Touzoku preferred to talk to the Ishtar patriarch himself whenever matters, such as the maiming of Marik, or similar arose. _

_Akefia grumbled incoherently under his breath. Louder, he demanded, "When is he supposed to get here?" _

_"An hour, maybe two." _

_"He's going to be crazy pissed at me." _

_Bakura resisted the urge snort into his hands. "Indubitably." _

_"Fuck Malik. He's going to be sorry he ever ran to his daddy to for help. I'm going to rip out his spine and feed it to him on a platter. I'll tear his fingers off, one by one, wrap them in a box, and send it to him for his birthday. I'll-!" _

_Bakura coughed politely. When Akefia looked up, the younger brother pointed to the doorway. _

_Clinging to the wall was Amane. Her sharp, grey eyes were wide and her mouth was gaping. Her own white hair was pulled back in a ponytail; a few strands had come loose and framed her rounded face. _

_She made a sound of shock when she realized that they were looking at her. She started to step backwards, but Bakura crooked a finger at her. _

_"What is it, kitten?" he asked sweetly. _

_Amane smiled in spite of herself. She liked Bakura's voice and the pet name that he'd given to her. She moved forward. _

_"M-my brother is awake," she stuttered. _

_"Excellent. What perfect timing. You run back and tell him we'll be right there, alright?" _

_Grinning, Amane nodded and pranced back to the parlor room to Ryou. _

_Bakura turned around and caught Akefia's eye. For a few heartbeats, the brothers didn't move. Then Bakura laughed. The sound was low; it came from somewhere in the back of his throat. Akefia let out a sigh of relief. His brother's disappointed aura had disappeared. It was replaced with the good-humored attitude he adopted when they were together. _

_"You're going to get us caught for sure one of these days," Bakura was saying. _

_Akefia chuckled. "Sorry."_

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><p>There's nothing like the smell of lavender and a mournful Beethoven to make you think, 'What in the hell did I drink last night?'<p>

At least, that's what a movie fighter would say. See, in movies, the character gets caught in a back alley and either wins the fight or gets brutally beaten. The ones where they get beaten are usually the underdog films, aren't they? Regardless of the outcome of the fight, he always passes out and wakes up somewhere completely different, and doesn't remember a thing until something jogs his memory.

Me, I'm not so lucky. When I regained consciousness, I knew exactly where I was, how I got there, and why I was there in the first place. I remembered the alley, Pipsqueak and the fear for Amane's safety. For _my_ safety. I remembered Bakura and Akefia's entrance, their faces cool, with that 'you-fucked-with-the-wrong-man' look. I distinctly recalled the walk up the driveway, seeing the extravagant house, and Bakura telling me to lay my bloody, muddy body on his beautiful, fancy, and probably brand new couch.

I cracked my eyes a sliver to let any brightness in slowly, so as to not overwhelm my brain with whatever offending light there might be. As I soon figured out, the room I was in was only dimly lit, the soft glow courtesy of a lamp somewhere near my head. I expanded my vision and took in the rest of the area. The light and shadows of a lamp does strange things to a room. The walls seemed to move side to side, like waves. The paintings on those walls was kept distorting, the faces changing every minute. I thought the chandelier was lowering itself; the candelabras on it writhing like snakes.

Or maybe I had been given some drugs and was just extremely high right now.

My head was propped up on the armrest, so I could easily look down at my body without moving anything except my eyes. From the middle of my upper arm to as far to the shoulder as I could see, there were bruises on bruises, and each of _those_ bruises had a nice laceration of their own. I suspected uncut fingernails were the cause of those. My entire torso was covered in bandages. They were wrapped like a tank top. I probably would have gone out in public as I was and no one would arrest me for being indecently exposed. That is, if I even had the ability to get up. Which I didn't. It took a severe amount of effort and pain for me to lift just my head. There was no way I could get my entire body off the couch.

My pants were still on, but I had a feeling that there were a good amount of injuries under them too. I noticed that someone had taken off my sneakers. I wiggled my toes in the air as I looked around. Even in the lamplight, it was easy to tell that everything in this room was expensive. With my bandages and cheap jeans, I felt as out of place as a wet cat in the 101 Dalmatians' home.

A woman's soft tones drifted towards me from the right. I turned my head to see who was there, only to be greeted by a mouthful of delicious velvet. Soft, yes, but fuzzy. Not my ideal snack.

"Who's there?" I asked.

Note – I probably should never be in a horror movie. I'd be the first to die.

The voice muttered something else and then I heard _click, click_ on wood floor, heading my way. From the sound of it, I guessed she was wearing those horrible torture devices women call "shoes" with the fifteen inch spiked heel on them.

She stopped next to the couch and I immediately looked to her feet. The shoes didn't look so bad. They were black, strappy, and only had a two-inch heel, which was about as wide as the shoe itself. What do I know about women's footwear?

I lifted my eyes from her feet, following her slender, tanned legs to the hem of her knee-length black skirt and up to the silky dark green top. It was a nice color and covered her decently. It was nothing like anything the girls in my class wore at all. It's always nice to see a pretty lady without seeing her boobs too.

I finally shifted my head to look her in the face. She smiled sweetly down at me, green eyes twinkling. The red hair that tumbled around her face looked like it was on fire and complemented her outfit wonderfully. She was a beautiful woman, I had to admit.

"You're awake again," she stated.

"Again? I don't remember being awake before."

"We thought you might not. The last time, you didn't respond to us at all, and you kept saying you'd kill a man."

"Was his name Joey, by any chance?"

She laughed a little. It was a sweet sound that actually made my ears tingle. "You leave the killing to the boys."

"Uh, what?"

Her face twisted into confusion for a moment, and then her eyes got big. Her mouth opened and closed noiselessly before she managed to get a cough out. "Nothing. I just … nothing. I, uh, sent your sister to get Bakura. He should be here in a moment. How are you feeling?"

"I think I'm okay," I said. "I mean, my chest hurts every time I breathe and I can barely feel my arms, but otherwise, not bad."

The woman smiled that sweet, compassionate smile again. "And your head?"

"What about it?"

She reached a hand out. I barely felt her fingers graze my forehead, but even that light touch caused me to flinch. . She must have noticed because she pulled her hand away. "I've had to wrap it three times now. What in the world did you do to it?"

"Me? I did nothing. Someone else smashed my head into a wall, last I remember."

She gasped. "Why on earth …?"

"Haven't got a clue. I think maybe he thought I was rich?"

"A mugging gone horribly wrong. For him, that is," a third voice said.

Since I couldn't see the source of the voice, I figured he was behind the couch and, as I didn't want another taste of soft velvet, I kept my head still. I saw Amane come around the side of the couch and settle on the floor by my head.

"Hello, brother," she said, her eyes sparkling. "How are you doing?"

"I'm doing fine," I answered. I opted to not tell her about my every ache and pain. "How about you?"

"I'm good! I got to eat mac and cheese and had hot chocolate and everything!"

I would have laughed if it didn't hurt so much. I settled for a smile. "That sounds delicious."

"It was! I think Bakura makes the best mac and cheese."

Bakura making food? Not likely.

"Kitten, why don't you go with Nicole and get some more. You can take some home for your brother too."

Amane jumped up, excited. "Can I?"

"Naturally. What's ours is yours."

I glanced between Bakura and Amane and I think I might have felt a pang of jealousy somewhere amidst the soreness and discomfort. But that was stupid, because it wasn't like Bakura was usurping my position as brother. He was just being nice. She was _my sister_ and I'd just had the crap beaten out of me. People offer other people (and their sisters) things when they have the crap beaten out of them. It's only polite.

When the woman, Nicole, took Amane by the hand and left the room, I turned my head to look at Bakura. "Thanks," I said, lamely.

Bakura sat on the edge of the divan. He was closer then the typical 'just-checking-up-on-you' person would sit. I tried not to think about what it would be like if he leaned over me a bit more. And maybe took his shirt off.

"I need to ask you something of importance, Ryou."

I snapped back to attention. "Yes?"

"How are you feeling?"

"I-I'm doing better, I guess."

"Do you think you could get yourself up, or would you prefer someone else pick you up?"

By 'someone else,' did he mean himself? My mouth apparently thought so, because it continued the conversation without my brain.

"There's no way I can get myself up, and if you tried picking me up, I think I might bite your finger off." Maybe I had put more venom into my voice than I should have. Give me a break; I'm crippled.

Bakura blinked in what might have been surprise, but he laughed immediately after. The laughter wasn't mixed with pain, like the last time I'd heard it. It was actually a lovely sound to listen too. But beneath the pleasantry, I feel a hint of coolness.

I knew, without a doubt, that the chill undertone was like his white hair and his brown-and-slightly-more-than-tinged-red eyes. It was something that had always been there, something that would always be there, and something he had gotten so used to, he didn't even pay attention to it anymore. Maybe he didn't even realize it was there. His face was amiable enough to suggest that possibility too. Regardless of whether he knew of its presence or not, it was definitely there and it sent a shiver down my spine.

"If you're not well enough, don't push yourself," Bakura responded after a moment. "It's just, my father will be home soon, and I hadn't been sure if you wanted to meet him just yet."

WHOA! Meeting the parent? Doesn't that kind of thing happen _after_ the first few dates? Bakura and I had only seen each other twice now, and our meetings were a far cry from a 'date.'

"Y-your dad?" I stuttered. Classy.

"You see, we can never be sure how Father will react to a new acquaintance of ours. He might ignore you, or he might run to you with a chainsaw. I thought it was best to warn you first and give you an opportunity to escape."

I pointed to the bandage shirt I was wearing. Then I motioned to the band around my head. "I'm not going anywhere," I said.

"As I had figured."

It might have been my imagination, but Bakura seemed none too thrilled with my decision. He stood up abruptly.

"You should call your parents and let them know where you are. They'll be worried, no doubt."

"I would, but I left my phone in my backpack, and I left that in Joey's car." Fuck Joey.

"Ah, I see. I'll get you a phone." His smile had shrunk a few molars, but he still managed to give me a look that made me want to tackle him to the ground. Rather, it was a look that made me want _him_ to tackle _me. _That's a much better fantasy. And probably more realistic too.

"Father won't be home for a little while. Try to get some rest, Ryou."

I closed my eyes obediently.

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><p><strong>AN: I'm happy with the beginning, but less than pleased with the interaction between Ryou and Bakura in this chapter. Anyway, thank you for reading and please review.  
>Next chapter, we get to meet the patriarchs of these two warring families. The name 'Hank Ishtar' ... yes, that is a direct reference to The Abridged Series. I'm feeling highly unoriginal right now.<br>I apologize that this chapter is not full of as much sexiness as in the previous chapters. The next one will be better. ... I promise?**


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